Addiction
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: Stormwind has an addiction. An addiction to killing to be exact. Believing the Clans were too peaceful, he started a war. Now, all four Clans are constantly battling with one another, and are now looking for the cause of all this. Stormwind has no choice but to lay low, and try to keep himself from killing so he won't be found out. But that is easier said than done. OC. Old forest.
1. Preface

_Addiction - Preface_

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**Hey guys.**

**So this is my new Warriors fanfiction. I originally wrote this for a fanfiction contest on the Official Warriors Message Boards (now called the Erin Hunter Community). However, the host of the contest I suppose quit the forums, and I was left with this fanfiction, and I decided to finish it since I enjoyed the plot. She gave me the prompt, so I have to give some credit to her, but I came up with the title, as well as the plotline, characters, and so on. The only thing I do not own are the Clans and land in which this takes place.**

**I do not own Warriors. The characters depicted in this story are my own, however. I do not own the four Clans, the territory, or the overall concept of the Warriors saga.**

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**Preface**

War.

Death.

Blood.

I am hungry for these things. I love to kill for fun. I love to see fear on my enemies' faces. I love to see cats grovel before me and beg for mercy. I love to watch them howl in agony as I slice my claws through their pelt. I love to watch them choke and gurgle on their own blood. There is no better feeling than that.

I love violence. I love death. I love destruction.

And there was not enough of it. The Clans were at peace... Everyone talked things out without so much as unsheathing their claws. Where is the fun in that?

Since they didn't want any battles, I started a war. Now, the four Clans rage against one another. I don't think that half of those useless lemmings even know what they're fighting for. But I don't care. All around me is pain and suffering. I get to charge into battle and rip cats to shreds almost every other day. It is a beautiful feeling. Nothing is more glorious then the heat of battle - blood roaring in your ears, the counterpoint of painful yowls echoing in your head, the feeling of your enemy squirming beneath you, his blood on your claws, his blood flowing down your throat, his dying gasp as the light fades from his eyes.

However, the Clans are beginning to grow suspicious. They ask questions now. Why are we fighting? What happened to our peaceful ways of old? Who started this? Where is the cat that brought this tragedy upon us?

They are all suspicious. They eye each other warily, thinking that the traitor - the one who caused it - is walking among them. And I am. Some of them stare at me, but not all of them. I am not the only cat with a blood lust.

Yet, I must be careful. No one must know that I started this. If they ever found out, I would be killed. In fear of them discovering me, I try to tone it down. I try not to lose my temper. I try not to kill.

But how can I not kill?

How can I resist it?

I don't know the answer to that question.

There is no answer to that question.

I can't stop killing.

It's my addiction.

And it very well may be the death of me.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the preface, and I hope it intrigued you. Mind leaving a review and telling me what you thought? I'd really appreciate it!


	2. Chapter 1

_Addiction - Chapter 1_

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**I know this chapter is short - the majority of the chapters of this fic will be. That is just the way I chose to write this. **

**Thank you for the reviews! They warmed my heart and made me want to post the next chapter, so here it is.**

**This story is going to be written in a... somewhat odd way. One chapter will be a memory. One chapter will be in present-time, and so on.**

**I do not own the concept of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans, or the territories mentioned in this story. However, the characters depicted in this story are my own. I do not profit from this story in any way.**

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**Chapter 1**

I was an apprentice.

My name was Stormpaw.

It was leaf-fall.

And it was during that time that I made my first kill.

It was then that I tasted blood for the first time.

Looking back, I don't even know if I _wanted_ to kill him. I didn't _want_ him dead. I just… did it. I would say that it was instinct, but it wasn't. Instinct is the body telling you to do something—it is warm, pulsating, decisive; your blood sloshes through your veins, and your heart thumps in your chest. That is instinct.

This was not anything like that. It was cold and forceful. As if some other, primal being was forcing my paws.

The victim's name was Lichenpaw.

And he was my best friend.

You what else, I didn't even remember what we had been fighting over. Whatever it had been, it was stupid. It was probably a debate over something useless—something that didn't matter. And yet I killed him for it. Whatever it was, I killed him for it.

I remember the killing itself vividly.

We were sitting side-by-side, by a small stream in ShadowClan territory. We had gotten into the argument, and then, from there, things got out of hand. I felt myself growing angrier and angrier each time the contradicted me. I grew madder and madder until…

Until I snapped.

I snapped.

And I lunged.

And the next thing I knew, I had buried my teeth in my best friend's throat. Blood gushed into my mouth. I felt myself revel in the sweet, salty, metallic taste of it. The moment the crimson liquid touched my tongue, I was addicted. I wasn't even… disturbed by the fact that I'd killed my best friend. In fact, I was eerily calm. I felt like it was… natural. The feeling I felt… Well, honestly, I felt nothing.

All I could think about was how… good it felt to feel my teeth in his flesh, and how delicious and sweet his blood tasted.

I wanted to kill again.

I wanted to taste blood again.

After I made up a lie about how Lichenpaw had been attacked by a rogue, I began to plot my next murder.

However, it wouldn't be until I was named a warrior that I would get to taste it once more.

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A/N: Review?


	3. Chapter 2

_Addiction - Chapter 2_

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**So, yeah, here is the next chapter in present day.**

**Remember to leave reviews!**

**I do not own the concept of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans or the territories mentioned in this story. However, the characters depicted in this story are my own. I do not profit from this in any way.**

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**Chapter 2**

"Stormwind, take a patrol by the ThunderClan border," Slickfoot meowed. "Take Redblaze, Birdsong, and Shadefur with you."

I dipped my head obediently. I had to keep up appearances, did I not? "Okay, Slickfoot," I murmured. He didn't give me a second glance, and continued to give out orders. I studied him for a few seconds, taking in his appearance. The Clan deputy was a jet-black tom that usually looked sleek and strong, but ever since this war began, he had taken on a disheveled appearance. His sapphire eyes were wearing, and his pelt was beginning to mat and dull.

It was my fault.

And I loved it.

When Slickfoot had finished organizing the day's patrols, I went to the warriors' den. Growing up in a Clan with cats around you all your life… you would think that you'd develop a sort of… comradery with them. You'd feel as if you were "one of them" and they were your family. I never got that feeling. It wasn't that I was treated badly. I was not an abused kit. I didn't have some tragic backstory that was going to be dramatically revealed later on. I was a happy kit, and a happy apprentice. Killing just made me even happier. I never developed any bonds with my Clan-mates, nor did I ever feel as if I belonged here. I just… was here. This was where I was placed, and it was where I would stay. So, I suppose that was why I didn't care that my Clan-mates were dying. I didn't mind that they suffered every single day because of my deeds.

In fact, I enjoyed it.

Sadism comes in many forms. You can either enjoy seeing pain on your enemies—which is common. I think there are very few of us who can say that they have never felt this. There is also the type of sadism in which you enjoy seeing the ones you love in pain. This is, arguably, the most bizarre kind. However, there is one final form that is the coldest, and most heartless. That is the one that I enjoy the most—it is unprejudiced, unadulterated hatred for everything on this earth. As previously stated, I liked the last form the best. It was unbiased, and dreadfully fun. No one is spared.

As I gathered the previously named warriors, I led the way to the ThunderClan border. My paws itched for a fight. A dark part of me that I both loved and feared was hoping to run into a patrol; hoping for a reason to start conflict. I knew that the warriors in my charge would try to avoid it at all costs, but I saw the chance, I would lead them in headfirst. If they died, I would claim that ThunderClan started it—it was their fault we lost warriors. Then, of course my leader would have to retaliate for such an attack.

It was a vicious, never-ending cycle.

Did I mention I loved it?

I did love it.

Very, very much.

As we neared the border, I noted the fresh scent of blood. This border had been stained and tainted with the sharp, metallic aroma for a long time. Between the border skirmishes that either ended in death by teeth and claws, or death by Twoleg monsters. There was a slight breeze that sent ThunderClan stench in our direction. It was fresh.

My Clan-mates stiffened.

My heart leapt in anticipation.

As if on cue, a ThunderClan patrol came into view. There were only three cats against the four of us. It would be so easy.

"What are you doing here?" one of the ThunderClan cats snarled.

"Probably here to spy," another, a she-cat growled.

"We are not here to spy," Birdsong defended. I could tell that she was trying to keep her voice steady, and not argumentative.

"Like we would believe you," the ThunderClan she-cat growled. "You ShadowClan cats are all the same."

"Come on this side of the border and say that!" Redblaze growled. The ginger tom seemed to be doing all the hard work for me, antagonizing the enemy without even so much as a nudge.

"Look at them, Fennelsnow," the first cat that had spoken said. "Trying to pick a fight for no reason."

"Shut up, you fox-hearts!" Shadefur snarled. "Like you're any better. It was your leader that attacked us without provocation less than a moon ago!"

"Can you believe this cat?" the she-cat, who was apparently named Fennelsnow, asked, turning to her companions. "'Without provocation'? We had _proof_ that you were stealing our prey!"

"That's a load of fox-dung and you know it," Shadefur answered, his voice surprisingly level.

I hadn't even spoken the entire time.

You know, it is odd. You think that there is always some evil force that comes along and forces people to do bad things. However, that's just something cats who have done wrong say to make themselves feel better. Perhaps I did start this war. Perhaps I was the instigator. But I did not make them fight. They made that decision on their own. The majority of the death and destruction that occurred afterwards was not my fault—I had little to do with it. It was as if my species suddenly became wild and self-destructive. They were the sinful ones—the ones that fought battle after battle for no reason at all. I simply dropped the stone into the water, and they were the ones that created the ripples—the aftershocks.

"Fennelsnow, Chestnutclaw," the third ThunderClan cat, who had not spoken yet, called. "Let's leave the ShadowClan cats alone. They haven't crossed the border. Why have an unnecessary bloodbath?"

I had to hand it to this tom—at least he had some sense in his brain. However, he was _still_ trying to thwart my plans, and that simply wouldn't do. So I spoke up, "Ha, the ThunderClan cats are scared, Redblaze," I snickered, exchanging a look with my equally bloodthirsty Clan-mate.

Redblaze smirked. "What's the matter, ThunderClan? Afraid of the big, scary ShadowClan cats?"

"That's it!" Fennelsnow snarled. "Grasswhisker, I _will not_ stand here and be tolerated by a Clan of half-breeds!"

"ThunderClan, attack!" Chestnutclaw yowled, sprinting across the Thunderpath toward us.

I unsheathed my claws, blood already roaring in my ears. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins.

I felt alive.

"ShadowClan, attack!"

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A/N: Review?


	4. Chapter 3

_Addiction - Chapter 3_

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**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 3**

They said that I was an exemplary apprentice. I was a good, strong fighter and had a knack for combat. When it was time for me to receive my warrior name, our Clan leader, Twistedstar named me a warrior, he chose the best name he saw fit: Stormwind. He said that my name was one of the most fitting names in all of ShadowClan. I fought like a fierce storm, and I was as quick and as strong as the wind. I always took proud in my name. I always cherished it, because my name was the only thing that hinted at the tempest I had caused.

I've already told you about Lichenpaw – how I killed my best friend over a petty little disagreement. And I've also mentioned that it would be a while before I killed again – after I was named a warrior.

As I'm sure you know, each newly named warrior must sit vigil on the night of their naming ceremony. It is the duty of that newly named warrior to guard the camp and watch over their Clan-mates while they sleep. I was named with one other warrior – a she-cat named Viperstrike, who died shortly after our naming ceremony. She was on the other side of camp, and was practically blind as a bat. I knew I could sneak away and do whatever my little heart desired.

And so I did just that. I left camp and went for a leisurely stroll in the forest. It was during that stroll that I was interrupted by the sounds of laughter – giggles is a more accurate description. All I wanted was to take a nice walk in the middle of the night, enjoy the light of the waxing moon on my pelt, and take in the pacifying sounds of the night. That was all I wanted. And it was _disturbed_ by a couple of lovebirds?

That simply would not do.

So I took off in that direction to remedy this situation. I found them – sitting lying side-by-side in a small glade at the edge of the territory. Most of ShadowClan land is marshy, usually peat-like. However, the farther north you ventured, the ground became more solid, and even grassy in some spots. The large, majestic pines that composed our forest, thinned out, creating small glades, like the ones the lovers lay in.

It was easy to pinpoint the couple due to the chorus of purrs and laughs that resonated from their positions. It was a disgusting sight. They were lying in the glade, staring up that the stars. Every now and then, one would lean over and lick the other, or swat them playfully with their paw. It was adorable, and it made me nauseous. They were so absorbed in each other, they didn't even notice me approaching until it was too late.

I went for the tom first – he was a ShadowClan cat named Browneyes. The fight he put up was absolutely pathetic. All he did was yowl and thrash – the mouse-brain seemed to forget that he was armed with teeth and claws. I took pleasure in killing him, sinking my claws into his shoulder blades and ripping out his throat with my teeth. I remember the explosion of blood as it splattered across the silver ground, and drenched my chest fur. The salty, metallic taste of blood seemed to only sharpen my senses.

The she-cat – also ShadowClan, named Aspenleaf – fled the moment I sank my claws into her mate. I had little time to enjoy the dying gasps of the tom, for I had to find the she-cat before she return to camp and told them the truth. So, I raced after her, which was easy. The poor thing was absolutely petrified. And fear . . . Well, fear can have an odd effect on the body. It can either enhance and sharpen your senses and make you a better hunter, or faster when your fleeing. Or, it can hinder you; cause you to freeze and stare at your attacker like a deer in headlights. Fear can make you clumsy, or cause you to make stupid decisions.

That's what fear did to little Aspenleaf. She was running so fast, she forgot where she was going, and tripped over and upturned tree root. She was lying in the middle of a forest trail when I found her. I could have smelled her fear scent from a sky-length away. Her pelt was fluffed out and bristling. Her eyes were wide, and as large as an owl's. Her body was trembling. She was panting, and whimpering all at once. It was even more pathetic than the fight the tom had put up.

As I stalked toward her, my razor-sharp claws unsheathed, and her mate's blood still dipping from my jaws, I felt like I was doing ShadowClan a favor. Surely, in a real battle she would be useless. The moment she would face her enemy, she'd turn tail and run.

So I felt no guilt for ending her miserable life.

When I was finished, I drug the lovers' corpses to the ThunderClan border. I knew that I had to hide my own scent, so I rolled them both in dirt, and then rubbed some wild garlic on their pelt for good measure. Since they were so close to the ThunderClan border, surely ShadowClan would assume that ThunderClan killed them.

Once the bodies were in place, I went back did my best to cover up my tracks – scraping dirt over the bloodstains that had dripped from the bodies along the way. Only after I was sure that I would not be detected did I was my paws in the stream and head back to camp. It was nearly dawn then.

It wasn't long before the dawn patrol found the bodies of Browneyes and Aspenleaf. As I predicted, the Clan immediately assumed it was ThunderClan. And that was how the war truly began.

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A/N: Review?


	5. Chapter 4

_Addiction - Chapter 4_

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**Sorry this chapter is so short. Think of this story as just . . . look into the mind of a psychotic killer. With each chapter we just get another example of how he is insane, and addicted to the bloodlust.**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 4**

I slammed into Fennelsnow, and sent her crashing to the ground. The pale ginger she-cat snarled in response and clawed at my shoulders. It stung, and I felt a warm liquid begin to run down my front legs, but I ignored it. My own claws sliced through her chest. She howled in pain as I annihilated her flesh. It was so easy to cut her open – like running your paw through water. Blood welled under my claws. It soaked my lead-colored pelt, and boiled against my skin.

Fennelsnow yowled in agony under my claws, but I refused to yield. All around me, cats were fighting for their lives in similar manners. Grasswhisker had Birdsong pinned and was seconds away from sinking his fangs into her throat. Redblaze and Shadefur were taking on Chestnutclaw. The ThunderClan tom was already covered in wounds. Blood was splattered on the earth beneath our paws, and the fighting had been going on for less than a minute.

I watched as the light faded from Fennelsnow's eyes. She was a fool, really. She should have known better than to attack me like that. Then of course, how could she had known that I was ShadowClan's best fighter?

When I was sure that she was gone, I went to help Birdsong. I didn't really _care_ if she lived or died, but at least I could fight the tom that was attacking her. When I reached them, Grasswhisker was already pulling away, blood dripping from his jaws. It appeared that Birdsong had recently acquired a new ventilation hole in her throat. I watched with impassive eyes as the pretty she-cat choked on her own blood. She gasped and spluttered, trying to breathe, only to get another gulp of blood. Birdsong thrashed for about a minute as he body went into convulsions, and then she lay very still. By this time, Grasswhisker was gone.

Shadefur and Redblaze stood on our side of the Thunderpath, virtually unharmed. They watched as Grasswhisker and Chestnutclaw retreated like a couple of cowards. "That's right!" Redblaze yowled after them. "Go ahead and run! And next time you wanna start trouble, think about who you're starting it with! We won't go so easy on you next time, you fox-hearts!"

I watched the ThunderClan warriors retreat with a new satisfaction in my chest. Surely they would go back to their camp and tell their leader that a ShadowClan patrol had killed Fennelsnow. And, of course, I would go back and tell Twistedstar that a ThunderClan patrol had killed Birdsong. Each Clan would search for revenge, leading to more distress and ruin.

Ah, it was beautiful.

"We . . . should take Birdsong's body back to camp," Shadefur murmured sadly, looking at the body of the fallen she-cat. Blood still gushed from the wound in her throat .

"Yes," I said, faking my own despondence at the idea. "Here, help me lift her onto my shoulders. I'll carry her." The other two toms didn't object, and actually seemed glad that I was willing to carry the burden. Of course, this she-cat meant nothing to me, but by carrying her, my Clan would think that I did care. They wouldn't suspect me to be some cold-hearted murderer.

And that was what it was all about.

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A/N: Review?

Again, sorry for hte lenght.


	6. Chapter 5

_Addiciton - Chapter 5_

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**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 5**

The conflict began at a Gathering.

The full moon shone bright and proud in the midnight sky. It was a symbol of peace – of prosperity, and wisdom. If only its silver rays had shared that with the four Clans that night – things would have been so different.

Twistedstar had been fuming about the deaths of Aspenleaf and Browneyes. He had not called out ThunderClan on their deaths yet, but he had planned to at the Gathering. Our medicine cat, Speckleleaf, advised against it. She said that it would only cause more trouble to not only announce their deaths, but challenge ThunderClan in public. "I don't care if every cat in the world was there to witness it!" Twistedstar had snarled in response. "I want everyone to know what ThunderClan did to my Clan! What they did to my family!"

Speckleleaf had not spoken about the subject since. If she had persisted more, maybe Twistedstar would have listened. Maybe this entire war would have been avoided. But no; she gave up, and Twistedstar and myself got our way.

I was present at that Gathering – I had been chosen for my superior fighting skills. Twistedstar said that he wanted me there, not only because I was a good fighter, but also because I was a good warrior. I would be a symbol to ThunderClan. I was the next generation, and I was young, strong, and healthy. Twistedstar wanted ThunderClan to look at me and see their future opponent if they chose to pursue this matter.

And I adored the attention.

The Gathering began with WindClan – they spoke first. Their leader, Shardstar went on and on about how well they were doing, but I could tell by how skinny they were that they were slowly starving. Prey was hardly running at all in their territory, and they were having to find it elsewhere – mostly ThunderClan and RiverClan territory. They had kept out of ShadowClan for some reason unknown to be. Perhaps Twistedstar and Shardstar had some kind of agreement?

After Shardstar finished, Minnowstar – RiverClan's leader – began to speak. He slyly hinted that he knew WindClan was stealing prey, and made sure to make it clear that they would fight to protect what is theirs. After a bunch of boring status updates on the Clans kits and newly named warriors, Hailstar – the ThunderClan leader – stepped forward. He gave us the same old speech about how great ThunderClan is, and how strong and healthy they were in their abundant forest of wonders. I struggled to not roll my eyes the entire time he was speaking.

Then, at long last, Twistedstar stepped forward. "Before I tell you of how my Clan has been faring this past moon, there is something I need to share with you all. Cats of RiverClan and WindClan, I believe you need to know the truth of the so-called 'virtuous and brave' ThunderClan! Just this past moon, I learned the truth, and I feel that it is my responsibility to share it with you all now!"

Uneasy murmurs broke out between the WindClan and RiverClan cats. The ThunderClan cats looked absolutely livid. Hailstar was staring at Twistedstar with the most confused expression I'd ever seen. I struggled to hold in my devious laughter.

"Just a week ago, my dawn patrol came across two dead cats! These cats were ShadowClan warriors – Browneyes and Aspenleaf! ThunderClan scent was all over their bodies!"

Shocked yowls erupted from the other Clans. The ThunderClan cats' hackles were rising, and their lips were curling in defensive snarls. I felt a small smile spread across my face.

"Speckleleaf, my medicine cat, determined that they were slain sometime during the night," Twistedstar announced.

"ThunderClan could not have done this – we do not have night patrols," Hailstar meowed, clearly trying to calm the situation. "ThunderClan warriors are _not_ murderers. So, before you go around making accusations, Twistedstar, perhaps you should make certain that your facts are straight."

Twistedstar glared at the ThunderClan leader, his pelt bristling. "I did, Hailstar. ThunderClan scent was all over their pelts. My medicine cat guaranteed that a cat had killed them. I smelled no scent but ThunderClan's! Even when we took the bodies away from your border, the scent still clung to their pelts!"

"Well, I am _telling you_ that no ThunderClan cat killed your warriors."

"Oh, so a rogue killed them, drug them to the border and somehow, magically removed their own scent from their fur?" Twistedstar shot back hotly.

"Are you accusing me of lying?" Hailstar growled. Around me, ThunderClan cats and ShadowClan cats were snarling insults and vulgar words at one another.

"Enough of this!" Shardstar yowled over their argument. She stepped in between the two Clan leaders. "This is a Gathering, or had your forgotten? This is a night of peace, not a night to pick fights with one another! Do you think our ancestors would be pleased knowing that we allowed something insignificant—"

"Insignificant?!" Twistedstar shouted. "Two of my warriors are _dead_, and you call that insignificant?!"

"Shardstar meant no disrespect to your warriors, Twistedstar," Minnowstar intervened. "She was simply suggesting that you and Hailstar work this out on your own time. This matter should not be resolved at a Gathering under the watchful eyes of StarClan."

"Very well," Twistedstar growled, taking a step back from the other leaders. "And believe me, it _will_ be resolved."

"ThunderClan will be ready," Hailstar responded tightly.

And so would I.

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A/N: **Fun fact:** The three leaders in the story - Minnowstar, Shardstar, and Hailstar, are actually based off characters from another fanfic. It was written by my good friend, inversereality, who you can find on this forum. Minnowstar is Minnow from "Silence", and Shardstar and Hailstar are Shard and Hail from "Playing StarClan".

Review?


	7. Chapter 6

_Addiction - Chapter 6_

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**Well, here we are. **

**On the other website I post these stories on - The Erin Hunter Community, a forum site - I held a vote on whether or not to give Stormwind a romance. Everyone that replied to the question said yes. Now, don't worry, this is _not_ turning into a romantic drama. This little . . . romance will basically be him becoming infatuated and obsessed with this she-cat. It will only add to his overall . . . insanity. So don't worry.**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 6**

"This is an outrage!" Twistedstar snarled, lashing his tail for extra emphasis. Shadefur, Redblaze, and I were crowded into the leader's den. Our deputy, Slickfoot was present as well. He sat next to our beloved leader as he fumed over what ThunderClan had done to Birdsong. "They attacked you without provocation! I will not tolerate this. ThunderClan cats think that they can do whatever they want just because they have the largest Clan in the forest, well, we'll show them, won't we? Numbers don't mean anything!"

"But they help in a battle," Slickfoot meowed cautiously. "Twistedstar, perhaps we should think this through before we go rushing off into battle."

_No,_ I wanted to snap at the deputy. _This is what Twistedstar wants . . . This is what I want. More death . . . more destruction . . . more blood. It's beautiful, really. Why does everyone shy away from it?_

"What is there to think about? They attacked our patrol, and killed one of our cats!" Twistedstar pointed out. "These little feuds have been going on for two long. ThunderClan needs to be taught a lesson. Slickfoot, tomorrow morning, I want the entire Clan up early and prepared."

"For what?" Slickfoot queried, cocking his head to the side.

Twistedstar pursed his lips together in a thin line. "Battle training."

My heart practically did a somersault.

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The most fool-proof way to not get caught for being a murderous psychopath is to play your part. Obviously, you cannot go around acting like a crazy, bloodthirsty maniac. You need to act normal – act like a regular cat. You had to keep up appearances; give no reason for anyone to suspect you.

And I was fairly good at it. I played the loyal, dedicated warrior. So what if I was a little fierce or vicious in battle? Was I not doing _everything_ I could to protect my Clan? To show those rival Clan scum how great ShadowClan cats are? When I wasn't fighting, I was the exemplary warrior – strong, brave, obedient, kind, noble. I talked to every cat in the Clan – I asked about their personal lives and made little notes about them, so I could follow up on the situation later. Of course, I didn't care about any of those morons' lives, but at least they thought I cared, and what was all that mattered.

"Hey, Stormwind," a familiar voice mewed as I made my way across camp to the fresh-kill pile.

I turned to see Rainheart, a warrior a few moons older than me standing there. Rainheart was a very pretty she-cat – she had long, silky black fur, and shimmering, pale yellow eyes. Everything about her was inviting . . . intoxicating. If I were normal, I might have pursued her. If I cared at all about anyone, I would have tried to make her my mate. But I was _not_ normal, and I didn't care about any of these cats . . . but if I did . . . if I could care, I would care about Rainheart. "Hello, Rainheart," I returned the greeting with a gentle smile. "How is Duskleaf doing? I heard she went to Speckleleaf earlier today for a cough."

Rainheart narrowed her eyes slightly before looking down. "Oh, she's fine," she replied stiffly. "Why are you so interested in my sister all of a sudden?"

I stared at her, taken aback by this question. She sounded . . . almost jealous. "I was just asking –trying to make conversation, is all. How are you feeling?"

She didn't appear to be letting me off the hook just yet, but she softened up slightly. "I've been okay . . . I heard you got in a fight with a ThunderClan patrol earlier . . . are you okay?" she inquired, looking at my body for any injuries.

I purred, but it wasn't forced. Usually I had to force one out and do my best not to choke on it. But not this time. This time it came all on its own – naturally. What on earth was going on? "Yes, I'm fine. Those ThunderClan mouse-hearts fight like rogues."

Rainheart smiled, but it was weak. She looked at her paws "I was . . . I am worried about . . . what is going to happen here. The Clans have been warring with one another for moons. We've been fighting with ThunderClan and WindClan practically nonstop! Warriors are dying every day and . . . well I guess it's kind of . . . humbling to think that you could go outside camp to the border and not come back . . . Or that you can lose your best friend, or someone you cared about in a split second." She paused and looked up at me. "I worry about . . . about _you_, Stormwind."

"_Me?_" I couldn't believe it. Why would a she-cat like Rainheart ever worry about a scoundrel like _me?_

Rainheart let out an amused purr as she gave me a gentle nudge. "Yes you," she giggled. Her face then fell slightly. "Does that . . . make you uncomfortable?"

"N- no!" I amended quickly. "It . . . makes me happy, actually." And for once, that was no far from the truth. The fact that Rainheart cared . . . It made me feel . . . warm all over. It was . . . nice.

She stared at me for a second, as if she didn't believe my response, and then she purred. Rainheart looked at her paws then, seeming almost . . . sheepish. It was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. "I'm glad for that . . . In these times . . . you need to cherish the things that make you happy . . . unless you . . . well, lose them. And that could happen at any moment, you know?"

"Yeah," I meowed, but didn't really agree. I didn't consider ThunderClan, or WindClan (our other bordering Clan) to be a threat. I wasn't afraid of them. I didn't fear for my life when I went on patrols. If anything, I was ecstatic to be going – one step closer to the action, if not on the frontlines. "I guess . . . you really don't know when you'll lose someone . . . I mean, you could die tomorrow – heck, you could die later today." That thought made my gut solidify into a block of ice. I didn't want to think about Rainheart falling victim to this scheme. Any other cat could die – I didn't care about them – but not her. I don't think I'd ever stop hating myself if she died.

Rainheart looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of her death. "Yeah . . . I guess I could, but so could you."

I scoffed at that. She had no idea what I was capable of.

"What?" she asked, giving me an almost amused look. "You don't think there's a chance of you dying?"

Sure, there was a chance, but it was slight. However, if I was killed, it would be a little ironic. The cat that started the war being killed in it. What a story to tell the grand-kits.

"I just think that it's unlikely," I replied carefully, giving her my best, if perhaps awkward, smile.

Rainheart returned it. "You know, that's what they always say: 'it'll never happen to me', and then it does."

"Are you saying you are waiting for me to get what's coming to me?" I asked, slightly amused. The way she smiled – the way her eyes shone with mischief – it was all too cute. I found myself adoring it.

"No, of course not!" she said quickly. "I just mean . . ." Her fur was ruffled, and her face suddenly very sharp. She fluffed out her pelt and let out an annoyed sigh. "Just be careful, Stormwind." With that, she stalked off, leaving me standing there, wondering what I did wrong.

* * *

A/N: Review?


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